


Treasure

by stateofintegrity



Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-22
Updated: 2015-03-22
Packaged: 2018-03-19 03:22:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3594474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stateofintegrity/pseuds/stateofintegrity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Legolas and Gimli share an unexpected adventure in Lothlorien.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Treasure

**Treasure**

Before, Gloin’s son had ever mined treasure from the earth, wearing the stone with axe and water and song. Not only elves sang; dwarves crooned to the stone and saw it weep tears of diamond in answer. Now, the noble dwarf had come to chip away at prejudice, at fear, and at anger, and what he had found behind them shined like starlight. _He shines_ , he thought, _and I may see him and even reach out to touch him, but I cannot claim him or hoard him away from greedy eyes. My love for him seems akin to the madness that has always touched my line; it makes me long for that which I cannot use._ He knew that he would be willing to die to see his beloved safe. _But, fair elf – if I died, would you even notice?_

Gimli flinched when he felt the elf’s eyes upon him. He had thought Legolas asleep in the comfort of Lorien and had been looking his fill of his loveliness so that he might revisit the elf’s image later in his dreams.

The eyes of Mirkwood’s prince seemed clouded. “Gimli? Did you call me?”

_Only if elves can hear the cry of dwarven hearts_ , Gimli thought sadly. “No. You should be resting, my friend. You have been too much absorbed in grief and worn yourself almost to a white and silver shadow.”

The elf tilted his head in a gesture that Gimli had come to interpret as questioning. “Of all the gifts I might have expected to find in this land of golden trees, I little expected your care or your turn to poetry, Master Dwarf.”

Gimli only grumbled at him, hiding gentle emotions under a shield of gruffness that was quickly wearing thin with overuse. These days, he reached for it only on instinct, knowing that the elf quite saw through it with his bright and searching eyes. So concerned with hiding was he that he didn’t notice the elf’s approach until his long fingers came to rest on his shoulder. “Something quickens in me, my friend. It has called me from my rest and hums now beneath my skin. Will you walk with me?”

Gimli groused some more as they climbed down from the dark sleeping platform granted to the company by the Lorien elves. “What type of mad creature is an elf?” he asked himself. “That they require walks in darkness to calm themselves enough for rest they sorely need?”

Soft silver laughter answered him. “What type of mad creature is the dwarf who follows the elf on such a walk?”

If he had possessed the courage to answer, Gimli would have said, “I follow to see you shining.”

***

In time, they came to a dark pool screened by trees and lined with moss so lush that Gimli found himself wanting (in a very un-dwarvish fashion) to pet it. It was a fair setting for the jewel that he had come to call friend, and he settled on the bank to watch the stars glint in the dark water.

Then the elf began to remove his soft boots.

Gimli forced himself not to gasp, much as he wished to. He would have turned his axes upon himself before he would have betrayed himself before this newly-won friend. Instead he made his voice as playful as he could and asked, “Are you so comfortable before me, Master Elf?” Whoever heard of an elf shedding his garments before the eyes of a dwarrow?

“Yes,” came the answer, muffled somewhat as the elf found his way free of his tunic. “Though you will not give me my name. “I keep no secrets from you.”

Gimli tried to turn his eyes from the lithe creature that waded waist-deep into the dark water, but words came from his lips before he could find the strength to halt them. This time, he gave the elf his name. “Legolas, you shine.”

The elf lifted his face. Even across the distance between them, Gimli could see the pain in their depths. “Yes, but my heart is cold.” A shiver wracked his fine form and the watching dwarf moved as if drawn by a spell.

He waded into the water without thought for its cold touch – tunic, boots, and all. One hand reached out and stopped just short of touching the naked elf. “Has something hurt you, my friend?”

“You’re all wet.”

“Following an elf, no less.”

Those fond and gentle words seemed to strike the woodland creature like a blow. “Could you forget for a moment that I am an elf and comfort me as you would comfort a kinsman?”

“Aye, that I can do.” Enfolding the elf in his arms without thought for his make or his nakedness, Gimli breathed in the smell of leaves. “Though I cannot help but know you for an elf. As light as starlight you are, my friend, and as hard to hold. Tell me what pains you and it will feel my axe. Has some Lorien elf done you injury? Has Aragorn?”

“No.” The elf glanced from the strong arms that held him to the dwarf’s dark eyes. “But what made you think to ask such a thing, mellon-nin? Would that not shame you, if my heart belonged to a man?”

“Nothing of you do I disapprove of,” came the quick, certain answer, “save sometimes your singing, and this trembling. How can I still it? Command me, my friend. I will render any service to see you calm again.”

Legolas hesitated but a moment before daring all. “Then carry me beyond these falls, dear dwarf, and love me, or see me sundered eternal from all joy.”

“Love you?” the whisper was harsh. “What means this, Legolas? Make clear these words! You are dear to me, you are my dearest of friends, but I am a dwarf and you…”

“An elf!” came the bitter cry. “And so you can bring me no ease or comfort.”

The dwarf made a sound of negation and lifted the elf into his arms. He weighed next to nothing, even soaking wet. “Show me the way that elves take ease and I will,” he pledged. “But dear one, am I not unlovely in your eyes? How often have you told me that dwarves are graceless and crude?”

“How often have I lied to keep hidden my thoughts! You have grace.” He reached out to touch his face. “You have beauty. It is not the beauty of the elves, but it is a beauty that I would feel against me, a beauty that I would make mine and protect for all the years of your life.”

They passed out of the pool and beyond the trees. To Gimli’s eyes it seemed that every leaf shifted towards them in curiosity as he carried the elf through the gentle mist of the falls and onto the rock shelf beyond. “You have chosen a most dwarvish spot,” he told the creature in his arms as he gently bent to place a kiss upon the elf’s fair brow.

The dwarf’s wet clothing clung to them both, and Gimli frowned at the way his fingers seemed squat and clumsy as he set about removing the wet garments and tossing them aside. “Are you certain this is your wish?” he asked the shining creature before him. “Bare rock offers little comfort.”

The elf’s eyes were very dark. “I seek only such comfort as can be found in you, meleth nin. Your brightness and your strength.”

If he had not been distracted by the sight of so much dazzling skin, Gimli would have teased and said (half meaning it) that he deserved better. Instead, he took his place on the cool rock and beckoned the elf into his arms.

Legolas came to him with a smile. “You seek to shield me.”

“From cold and from pain,” agreed the dwarf. “Even dwarves do not seek the kiss of cold rocks on naked skin, my reckless woodland friend.” He drew the elf down against him and ran reverent fingers through his golden hair.

Legolas smiled at the gentleness in those great hands. “If I had not been reckless, would I have won your touch?”

“I would never have dared so much,” the dwarf agreed. “But how could I imagine that you would ever wish this?”

The elf nuzzled into his neck and the touch of his mouth was warm on the dwarf’s naked skin. “How could I not? It took only a short time in your company to see the truth of you, meleth nin. Your loyal heart, your bravery in battle, your care for all those that surround you.” He smiled. “Your poetry.”

“I shall have to find new words for the poem of you.”

And then their mouths were joined as though never to be parted.

As Legolas moaned beneath his touch, Gimli was forced to reconsider any thought he had ever held or entertained about his own lack of beauty. He did not understand the elf’s words, but he understood the need in his skin and the hunger in his hands and in his mouth. Freed of his uncertainty, Legolas carded his deft fingers through the fiery softness of Gimli’s beard until he found firm muscle underneath. He was surprised to hear Gimli manage a short chuckle in between his oaths and praise.

“What is it, my love?”

“You, you silly elf! First you drag me into a pond and then you _sing_ as you move against me. Do you seek to make me love your songs as I have come to love the rest of you? It is a good bribe.”

Laughing, Legolas aligned them. “I can make it a sweeter one yet. Perhaps I shall win a song of you, my heart!”

Gimli only groaned in answer.

***

Later, when the rocks had ceased to echo with their cries of joining, Gimli smiled to himself and murmured something in his own tongue.

“More poetry?” asked the elf as he played in the water of the falls.

“Perhaps. Before, I thought of you as a jewel more precious than the king’s jewel of my people and ever to be held out of reach.”

“And now?”

“Now, you are the great treasure of my life, and it has occurred to me that jewels are shown to their best advantage when held in a proper setting.”

Feet soundless on the stone, the elf came to sink down into his arms. “Like this?”

“Aye.”

Curtained by the gentle fall of water, they stayed unmoving together until the world began to wake up again.

End!


End file.
